


An Understanding

by emani-writes (Thrsdynxt)



Series: Book of Nile [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Book of Nile, Booker served his sentence, Booker | Sebastien le Livre Needs Therapy, Burns, But only in passing, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Future, Guilt, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, References to Depression, Self-Sacrifice, Self-Worth Issues, Shower Sex, Temporary Character Death, as one might expect of Booker after the events of the movie, can be canon-compliant, excessive descriptions of every little action, ignoring the elephant in the room that is Andy, joe x nicky - Freeform, mildly graphic description of a wound, unsupervised use of google translate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:54:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26687737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thrsdynxt/pseuds/emani-writes
Summary: Booker is finally back with the team after his long exile, though he feels he still has a lot to make up for. Nile notices how Booker seems to be on a downward spiral and takes it into her own hands to support and comfort him. This is the lead up/ precursor to an established relationship and the story I actually meant to write but it seemed important to establish this first.
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Nile Freeman
Series: Book of Nile [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942048
Comments: 7
Kudos: 67





	An Understanding

Booker stares down at the still slightly tingling skin of his left hand, flexing the fingers and marveling at the feel of new skin, bone, and sinew. 

It had been an impulse of his ever since he’d been allowed back into the family. Protect the others. Protect them no matter the cost. So when the flash grenade had arched toward Nile—sweet, forgiving Nile who had welcomed him back into the fold with open arms and an immediate comradery like he hadn’t betrayed them, like he hadn’t been gone for so many years, with a nearly aching sisterly love that Booker knew he didn’t deserve—he’d done the only thing he could do. He caught it. He’d only just had the thought to throw it back when it went off in his hand. Most of his fingers had been severed and the burns had traveled a good way up his forearm. Not enough bang to kill him, but he’d spent long minutes growing back digits and attempting to awkwardly fire his assault rifle single handed. 

He’d only just been able to use his still healing forearm to help steady his aim when he found another opportunity to protect, stepping in and taking a headshot meant for Nicky. Death had been immediate and Booker awoke groggily feeling as though a warm, smooth hand was pressed to his cheek. But when he’d managed to flutter his eyes open the sensation was gone and a stone faced Nile was grabbing his uninjured hand to yank him to his feet and the team’s idling getaway car. 

So absorbed in staring at his hand, Booker hardly notices most of the drive only to startle hard when the car dips suddenly along the gravel road. Nile jostles into him from her side of the car, grabbing for the handle to steady herself and sending a few muttered curses at Joe’s questionable driving. Booker shoots a glance over to her. Nile’s lips are pressed in a thin line and she seems to be glaring venom into the back of Joe’s head. 

“Errore mio,” Joe mutters, eyes catching Nile’s in the rearview mirror, corners crinkling in rye amusement before flicking over to catch Booker watching. Guilt and loneliness curls deep in Booker’s stomach as he watches the laughter leave Joe’s reflection, going carefully blank before darting back to where the headlights cut a line into the road ahead. 

Booker leans his head into the cool glass of the window and stares resolutely into the inky blackness of the country lane. 

The safehouse, when they arrive, is a large, dirty white farmhouse on the outskirts of a small village. It’s unfamiliar to Booker, but he’s uncaring as he stumbles out of the car, shouldering his pack. Gravel crunches under his boots as he follows at a distance behind Nile and the others. He squints into the harsh lamp light greets him through the door and he. His eyes catch Joe’s again where he stands in the corner of the room with Nicky having what is very obviously a conversation about Booker if the glances are anything to go by. The curl of guilt in his gut sends a stabbing spike of shame through his system, and Booker quickly turns away to head for the stairs only to stop suddenly when Nile is immediately in his path. 

She stares at him for a brief moment, expression unreadable before shooting a quick glance over his shoulder, lips thinning once more as they had in the car. Before he can turn to look, Nile grabs his hand and not so subtly yanks at him to follow her up the steps. 

Nile has obviously been to this safehouse before as she unerringly leads Booker in a bathroom a little ways down the hall. Booker blinks in surprise when she pulls him in after her, shutting the door behind them both with a sharp snick. Turning, she shoves Booker’s pack off his shoulder letting it drop heavily to the floor before turning to start the moderately appointed shower.

“Take off your clothes,” Nile throws over her shoulder, and Booker freezes, unable to so much as blink while Nile continues to adjust the knobs to her satisfaction. She turns, shoulders sagging with a sympathetic sigh when she finds him still fully clothed and staring at her with wide eyes.

Hands reach for his tactical vest and Booker is lost in the soft, sad smile gracing her lips as she slowly starts to open the clips.

Thrill at her evident care wars with disgust at how much he so desperately wants what she seems to be offering. The steady drum of the shower drowns out the pounding of his heart.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed what you’re doing.” Her voice, soft as it is, still causes him to flinch to his everlasting shame. The look she gives him is filled with such pity that Booker feels his cheeks flame in embarrassment at the thought of disappointing her. He stares resolutely at his feet.

“Booker.” It’s a command, punctuated by a sharp yank to the front of his vest, and he instinctively obeys, eyes snapping up to meet hers. She smiles that soft, sad smile at him again.

“You have nothing to prove.”

He’s shaking his head before she’s even finished the sentence. “I’m not,” he croaks, his throat suddenly tight.

“You are,” she insists. Nile reaches up a hand to run through his dirty hair and Booker’s knees nearly give out, eyes closing blissfully at the sensation before he forces them open.

“You have been ever since you came back to us. You have more deaths in the last three months than the rest of us combined, Booker.” 

He can’t deny it. It’s been by design after all. The years of isolation did nothing to assuage his guilt and the only way Booker feels he can even begin to atone for his past transgressions to the team, to his family, is to shoulder the burden. Take what would have been their death, their pain, and carry it himself. 

He just hadn’t realized any of them noticed. 

“You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for me,” Nile says desperately as she grasps ahold of his newly healed hand with gentle care.

Nearly anything else she could have said would have made more sense to Booker. Of course he needs to sacrifice himself. He has to prove himself worthy of the team he’d betrayed. Has to earn the forgiveness she’s seen fit to give him despite everything.

“It would have hurt you,” he says, his voice sounding weak even to his own ears.

Nile’s slim fingers tighten around his momentarily. “Not this badly, Booker.”

Shamed, Booker pulls his hand gingerly out of hers. 

“Don’t.”

His eyes dart to hers, startled. Her expression is sad.

“Don’t do that, Booker. Don’t lose yourself in your head.”

His chest feels tight and his eyes burn as he looks pointedly over her shoulder. He sighs heavily through his nose.

“I couldn’t not do something, Nile. I don’t.. I can’t see you hurt like that.”

Fury flashes in Nile’s eyes. “I don’t like to see you hurt either, Booker! I know you still feel you have to repay the team for what happened with Merrick, but you aren’t obligated to sacrifice yourself.” Booker struggles to swallow past the lump in his throat.

“You are just as important, just as worthy as all of the rest of us, Sebastian Le Livre,” Nile breathes fiercely, her eyes pooling as she stares him down. 

“It kills me how you keep throwing yourself into unnecessary danger. There’s no score to settle, Booker. Nothing more you need to atone for. God, please, Booker.”

Staring at the warrior in front of him, Booker feels adrift, disconnected from reality. This goddess who has proven time and again that he is unworthy to even look upon is begging him. Booker falters for words.

Luckily, Nile deigns to grace him with her benevolence again, pulling him into a crushing hug. Booker hugs her back just as fiercely, barely holding back a sob when she cradles his face to the curve of her neck. 

“I don’t…” his voice sounds wounded even to his fuzzy ears. “I’m sorry.”

And he means it. With every fiber of his body, he means it, but Nile shushes him before he can say it again.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” she says like she means it. “You’ve been so brave for us, Booker. I want… I need to take care of you in return.” Her gaze is so earnest, Booker feels the beginnings of warmth suffusing him. 

“I won’t force you. If you tell me no, I’ll go. But please, Booker. Let me look after your needs tonight?”

Nile’s calloused hand cups his cheek, snapping him sharply back to the sensation he’d felt each time he’d awoken from death since his return and a barely whispered yes punches out of his chest without his conscious thought. The smile that lights up Nile’s face is all the reward Booker thinks he’ll ever need. Then she surges forward, pressing her full lips to his in a chaste kiss and Booker is gone, his world narrowing down to just the woman in his arms. 

She steps away from him then to check the temperature of the shower and Booker is bereft for the few seconds it takes her to return her attention to him. Her expression is warm, the overlying sadness gone as she eyes his current state of dress.

“You can’t get in the shower like that,” she teases gently and Booker tears his bloody shirt over his head in immediate compliance. He toes off his boots, thumbing open the placket to his jeans when he pauses, suddenly unsure. Her soft gaze finds his and he’s drowning. Nile reaches for his pants, easing them over his hips and down his thighs, gaze never leaving his, anchoring him as he begins to feel afloat in his own head. Gentle hands guide him under the blissfully hot spray and Booker stands there dumb and alone, letting the water pound his back. 

Alone again. The bitter bile of depression that Booker knows all too well hazes his vision. Stupid. It was stupid. Of course Nile didn’t mean caring for him the way Nicky and Joe care for one another. Of course he’s supposed to wash the blood from him hair alone. Always along.

The spiral of his mind threatens to crash over when a noise behind him causes him to startle. Booker turns to find an unapologetically naked Nile hovering just outside the shower door looking at him expectantly.

Booker barely manages to tear his eyes from her dark tipped breasts, a deep flush creeping well down his chest.

“Can I?”

She barely waits for him to nod before she enters the shower. Booker turns quickly trying to hide his blush and growing erection. This isn’t what this is, he tells himself over and over again, willing his traitorous cock to go down. If she notices his internal musings, Nile says nothing as she shuffles up behind him, clicking open the cap to a tangerine scented shampoo and gently lathering the sweat, blood, and debris from Booker’s hair with strong, sure fingers. The feel is just this side of heaven and Booker can’t help the groan that leaves him. 

Nile washes his hair a second time, fingers teasing down to massage along the tense muscles of his neck and shoulders before rinsing the now clear bubbles from his hair. She continues, using a soft cloth to swipe long strokes across his back and arms, even squating down behind him to soap up each of his legs. 

His cock hangs hard and heavy between his legs and he shifts as Nile does, trying almost desperately to hide his arousal from her, fearing the nearly overwhelming care she’s showing him will stop once she realizes how inappropriately she’s reacting to her closeness.

He isn’t prepared when she stands suddenly, plastering herself to his back and wrapping dark arms around his torso. He risks a glance over his shoulder and sees her eyeing arousal. Shame blooms cold in his chest and he reaches to extract himself from her embrace, sputtering an apology only for Nile to shush him. She drags the cloth she’s still holding slowly, almost teasingly over his chest and Booker freezes. Nile hums, the cloth dipping lower, the edges just grazing his shaft, and Booker whines.

Hot breath ghosts over his ear and Booker didn’t know it was possible to be this hard. 

“It’s okay, Booker.” Her voice is pitched low and flows through his veins like warm honey. “Do you trust me?”

Spikes of desire zing along his nerves and Booker is helpless to deny her. He nods, almost imperceptibly, but Nile sees and drops the cloth she’s still holding to the floor. Slowly, torturously slowly, her hand slides down his quivering stomach, fingers playing through his tight curls until her hand wraps around his cock and he’s gasping, his whole body shaking like a newborn foal. Nile shushes him again, comfortingly, even as her hand strokes him lazily.

“So good, Sebastian,” she breathes into the skin behind his ear, and a low keen erupts from his chest. “That’s it,” she praises, hand continuing its teasing, squeezing slightly on every upward stroke. “Let me take care of you. Such a good boy.”

Booker whimpers, her voice and words doing more for him than her hand on his cock.

A biting kiss to the back of his neck shocks a groan from Booker, and he swears he can feel her smile into the skin of his shoulder.

“That’s right, mon tresor. Let go for me.”

And he does. Quickly, suddenly, harder than he has in centuries. A choked sob wrings from his chest and Booker collapses to his knees, great heaving sobs following as the dam he’s worked so hard to maintain shatters under Nile’s care and consideration.

She follows him down to the floor, keeps up a constant litany of comforting murmurs and pulling his bulky form most of the way into her lap. Those sure fingers stroke his flank as he sobs out his despair. 

“So good for me, Sebastian. That’s right. Let it all out. You’re safe.”

The water has begun to go cold by the time he gathers himself. He’s reluctant to release his clutching grasp on her arm, but allows Nile to pull him to standing. She wets a clean cloth to wipe his sorrow from his face before shutting off the shower and gently patting him dry with an old, scratchy towel.

After toweling herself off, she opens the door, unabashed, and tugs him, bare naked, across the hall to a seemingly random bedroom. She makes a shooing gesture toward the bed and Booker all but collapses onto it, physical and emotional exhaustion taking their toll. He turns his head when the bed dips, watching with wide eyes as Nile slides in next to him, propping herself up on the headboard before opening her arms. Tentatively, nerves feeling a strange mixture of both electric and soothed, Booker shuffles to her, carefully pillowing his head on her chest. At her gasp, he flinches, glancing tentatively to her face and holding himself so still. Her reassuring smile greets him. 

“Your hair is wet, mon tresor,” she assures him, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. A gentle hand guides his head back down and Booker sighs deeply, contentedly, as he presses his ear to the steady thrum of her heart. He teases his fingers along her forearm, feeling his eyes droop when she returns the gesture, running her fingers through his hair.

Booker smiles, a tiny quark of his lips, and nuzzles into her soft skin. His chest feels warm and full, the dark empty places inside him abating. He presses a kiss to the center of her chest. “Thank you, Nile,” he mumbles hoarsely against her breast bone. 

He can feel her smile against his hair. “You’re worth it, Booker.”

And for the first time in a long time, he believes it.

**Author's Note:**

> Errore mio = my mistake (italian)  
> Mon tresor = my treasure (french)
> 
> Shout out to my friend who spent the better part of an hour debating which hand Booker would have used to try to catch with while holding various firearms even thought it did not remotely matter. He's the true hero here.


End file.
